Memories
by Miba
Summary: 16-year-old Boba has memories of Jango... 034- UPDATED
1. Chapter 1

  


  


    Boba Fett was half-laying, half-sitting in the pilot's seat of Slave I, the seatbelts keeping him from slipping out of his seat entirely. The sixteen-year-old suddenly jerked awake, a loose strand of hair falling across his eyes. Slave I had just jumped out of hyperspace. Boba looked down on the planet of Corellia, and flew to Coronet, the capitol city.     "Slave I to Coronet Space Port," Boba said over the com. "Requesting permission to land."     "Slave I, this is Coronet Space Port, you have permission to land in docking bay 327," came the staticy reply.     Boba yawned as he landed. He unbuckled the belts, and climbed out of his seat, grabbing his helmet from the control board. As he slipped it on, his fingers ran over a newly acquired scar. He paused, still finding it weird to have a scar there, on his face. He shook his head, to rid his minds of the thoughts, and pulled his helmet fully on.     Once outside, Boba started to walk away, but stopped and turned back suddenly. _Fool._ He thought. _You almost forgot to turn on the security system._ Annoyed at his mistake, Boba glared at no one in particular as he continued on. He was supposed to meet his employer, who had requested anonymity, in a central park. The park was easy enough to find, though Boba didn't like being there. Kids, he'd found, were only silent when sleeping, and even then they make a small amount of nose. Boba's face was one of disgust as he remembered the orphan ship he'd been on. The one that was going to take him and a bunch of other orphans to an orphanage on Bespin. How glad he was that he hadn't ended up in it.     Boba positioned himself under a tree, waiting for the man he was to meet. As he waited, he watched the people around him. Suddenly something hit his foot, and he sharply looked down, prepared to fire his wrist lasers at it, when he stopped. It was a red ball. A toy. Boba bent and picked it up, as a little boy ran up to him.     "Can I have my ball back, please?" The boy must have been not older than eight. Boba tossed the ball to him, and the boy grinned. He turned and ran, stopping a few feet from a man who looked like the boy, only a good deal older. The boy threw the ball, and the man caught it.     Boba watched the two, and saw how much fun they were having. How happy they were. How much they loved each other. Memories started to surface in Boba's brain. Memories of the days when he used to play like that with his father. Boba snarled, trying to bury the sudden emotion rushing through him. That boy would grow up with his father, that boy would always have his father, that boy would never have to experience the pain that came with losing your father at a young age. And Boba was angry with that boy; why should he deserve to have his father live while Boba's had died? But at the same time, he felt a sad sort of happiness; at least someone will be able to grow up with a dad. At least that boy's dad wouldn't leave him. Boba felt his hands unconsciously tighten around his blaster. Jango had told him he'd be back. It was the last thing he'd said, and Boba had believed him. Jango hadn't come back. He'd betrayed Boba.     Boba swallowed hard, and slightly shook his head. "No…" he whispered. Jango hadn't betrayed him; it had been the Jedi's fault. The Jedi he'd taken great satisfaction in killing. In a way, it still scared him to think about it. If he, a mere 12-year-old at the time, had been able to kill a Jedi Master, what more could he do? What more was he capable of?     "Boba Fett?" A voice asked.     Boba spun, startled sharply out of his thoughts. He'd allowed his emotions to get in the way. That was something a bounty hunter couldn't do. "Yes," he replied, trying to make his voice as hard and cold as he could.     The man before him was a bit taller than him, and wore the standard CorSec uniform of a high-up official. When he heard Boba speak, he wrinkled his nose, "You're just a kid? But I thought I'd heard that you were the one responsible for killing the Jedi Mace Windu? That was the reason I'm hiring you!"     "I did kill Windu. I'm no ordinary 'kid'." Boba flatly stated.     The man stared into the black T-shaped visor, and a chill ran through him. Only a kid… And reduced to this? What had happened to him to… "Right. This is a… sticky situation. CorSec needs this guy in our captivity, yet we can't get him ourselves. We need you to get him for us. Here." He held out a datadisk, which Boba took. "This contains all the info I have on your target. Good luck."     "I don't need luck." Boba said before turning. With one last glance at the boy and his father, Boba set off, back to his ship, a small wave of longing rushed over him. 

  



	2. Chapter 2

  
    Boba entered docking bay 327, and saw Slave I. His ship; no longer Jango's. Since he was young, he'd always felt there was something special about Slave I. He loved how it looked, how it flew, how it felt to be inside it. He remembered when he was little, begging Jango to let him come along for the ride. Boba smiled slightly under his helmet as he remembered the few times he'd proclaimed his want to live on Slave I. Boba's smile grew cynical and ironic. He'd gotten his wish, hadn't he?     Boba sat in the pilot's chair, then reached into his pouch and brought forth the datadisk he'd gotten.     "All right. Let's see what you've got." He said to the disk as he inserted it into his computer.     The CorSec insignia appeared onscreen, and then it exploded, only to leave behind the image of the official he'd spoken with.     "Ok, Fett. The name of your bounty is Gat Tobelia. He's wanted for murder and thievery. He used to rob the houses of the people he killed. He was going to go on trial in a few weeks, but he escaped recently, and ran to Hutt space. That is out of our jurisdiction. We need him back for trial. But we don't want the people of Corellia to know we've lost him. And the Hutts can't know that we're the one's who hired you."     The man faded out, only to be replaced with fact-file on Tobelia.     With a small nod, Boba started up Slave I, and typed in the coordinates for Nar Shaddaa. As he jumped the ship into hyperspace, he felt the familiar stomach churning that came with the spinning stars. He leaned back, taking off his helmet. Boba allowed his eyes to grow unfocused, and watched the stars coming at him. He always loved the dizzy feel he got from it. Like he was lost in a swirl of nothing and everything at once. Like he was surrounded by the elements and there was no one but him. Stars and ship. Thoughts and memories. Lost in a whirlwind of spinning stars. 

  
    Boba kneeled, watching the battle that taking place. Droids, Geonosians, Jedi… All together fighting each other. He watched as his father rocketed down, and fought with the Jedi Windu. He watched in horror, knowing what was to come, and yelling to stop it, yelling at his dad to jet back up to him before the reek trampled him, yelled at Windu to stop. But nothing he did could stop it. Nothing he did ever could. He couldn't even close his eyes against the sight of his father falling, headless...     "Beep! Beep! Beep!"     Boba jumped, "No!!!!"     "Beep!"     Boba stared at his control panel and then slumped back, groaning. "I hate that thing," he mumbled as he turned off his alarm. Boba shivered, and hugged himself, leaning forward slightly. Why did he have to sleep? Why did he have to dream? Why? If there was one thing in the entire galaxy he feared, it was his dreams, his nightmares. Not even killing Windu had put a stop to them. Boba glanced around the cockpit, trying to find something, anything to ease his mind. Instead, his eyes fell upon his helmet. With a cringe, Boba looked the other way, only to see the black book, which was not a book, sitting on the control panel. Angrily, he left the cockpit, and headed to his room, seeing his reflection in the metal walls, seeing the armor that he wore. Without another thought, he was taking off his armor, and letting it fall to the floor, piece by piece. Soon, all he wore was a simple flightsuit and his boots. But even that didn't help, for when he next saw his reflection, he saw Jango... not Boba. With a snarl, Boba turned off all the lights onboard Slave I, not caring that he couldn't see. For as long as he couldn't see, he couldn't be reminded of Jango. But not even blindness helped, for he could still hear the humming of the ship's engines, the feel of Slave I flying through hyperspace, the layout of the ship he loved so much, the ship that was once Jango's. Boba trudged along to his bedroom, memories flying through his head. Memories of younger, better times. Memories of when Jango was alive. Boba collapsed onto his bed, and buried his head in his pillow, attempting to drown out the memories.     "Go away..." Boba pleaded. "Just go away!" After a shuddering breath, he continued, "Please... Just sleep, nice restful sleep... just once… no interruptions..." 

  
    Boba groggily shifted, feeling the softness of the bed, and the blankets around him. For a moment, in the darkness, Boba thought he might be dead; floating in the middle of some timeless afterlife. But he didn't remember dying. After several moments of confusion, Boba suddenly realized. He'd fallen asleep! And in his bed, instead of the pilot's chair for once! Boba stretched with a yawn, shocked at how good he felt. He stood, amazed that it didn't really hurt to stand up like that, that his head didn't hurt anymore, that his eyes felt normal. Boba went to the 'fresher, and looked at himself in the mirror, hating his face, for it was Jango's face, a face that brought bad memories. Though, to his surprise, he looked better than he had in a long while. Slowly, Boba reached a hand up, up to the scar on his face. It wasn't very big, just a cut along his right cheek, starting near the corner of his eye, and slanted down towards his mouth. He ran his fingers over its uneven ridge, before letting his hand drop. He was Boba Fett, greatest bounty hunter ever, or at least he would be soon. If his face had scars, then who would care? He always wore a helmet; no one ever saw his face. And if they could, who would care to? No one cared, least not about him.     Feeling dejected, Boba heard his own voice echoing off the walls, "If I'm living in a galaxy where no one cares about me, then what point is there in even caring about myself?" 

  



End file.
